


Judgement

by eternalshiva



Series: Dragon Age Inquisition: Cullen x Fernweh Trevelyan [22]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Death, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Mention of blood, fic with art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-19 12:17:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3609825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalshiva/pseuds/eternalshiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“On with it,” the words were harsher than Fernweh anticipated – she wanted out of here. Josephine nodded, her expression filled with empathy, grief for her friend but Fernweh couldn’t see that, all she could see was Cullen. </p><p>(Collab with TheRealMcgee  - Art by therealmcgee)<br/>(Cullen POV can be read through fatally-procrastinating, link inside)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Judgement

**Author's Note:**

> therealmcgee said: What if the final battle was way more desperate and hopeless than in game. The Inquisition’s army would make one final stand against Corypheus with little hope of victory, just to hold them off long enough for the Inquisitor to close the breach. So basically I want the Inquisitor to have to order Cullen on a suicide mission, and it can end as horribly angsty as you want.
> 
> Taken inspiration from http://siriusdraws.tumblr.com/post/112706385485/siriusdraws-i-am-sorry-for-your-loss

[art by therealmcgee](http://therealmcgee.tumblr.com/post/114911916709/prepare-your-box-of-tissues-and-read-these-two)

 

Josephine stood before the mirror, adjusting the loose curls of her hair while watching her lips as she worked her way through the words again and again. She took her time, worked out the shakiness in her voice – she focused on keeping her gaze steady. She tried to stop the tremble in her hands but succeeded only in twisting the paper and smudging the ink with the sweat of her palms.

She wasn’t even sure why she was still holding on to it, she hadn’t even read it in a while. She knew every word, every tense, and every syllable written by her favourite quill. Maybe it was to comfort her, something familiar to distract her from her grim duty, perhaps.

She took a deep breath and began her speech again, the knot still heavy in her throat and the words burned with the lies she tried to convince herself of.

She _couldn’t_ do this.

Josephine buried her face in her hands and felt her eyes tear up, she couldn’t… she _couldn’t_ say them to her friend. “You have to do it, Josie, no one else can” she murmured before looking up again, she straightened out her shoulders and clenched her jaw. She blinked away the dampness of her eyes and cleared her throat, one more time.

“Inquisitor.” Her voice was stronger this time, even steadier and more confident. Maybe she could-

“Yes?”

The door behind her opened, groaning with effort as the hinges creaked without its oil. Fernweh entered the diplomat’s quarters and Josephine spun on her heels in surprise, completely unprepared – was it already time for them to meet?

She watched the Inquisitor make her way to her desk and she couldn’t help but notice how different her friend was now, how tired she looked. She hadn’t seen her in a while, always busy, always buried in work – she was sure that Fernweh was hiding from the rest of them. She couldn’t blame her, not really.

She hadn’t seen the Inquisitor grieve their losses at the battlefield, where Haven floated up into the sky and Corypheus nearly won the battle. If it hadn’t been for Cullen’s efforts, the day would have been lost.

It had been far more brutal than they had prepared; there had been far more Red Templars, mages and controlled wardens that had survived than originally thought, and the magister had done a good job at keeping the numbers hidden from Lelianna. The spymaster still blamed herself, after the battle, and she had retreated away, grieving as well. Even the ravens were quiet around Skyhold.

“Y-you made it.” Josephine smiled, or tried to. Fernweh only narrowed her eyes slightly, the diplomat could see more dark circles under the eyes – she wasn’t sleeping. Who would, after the decisions she had to make that night. They had lost far more than what they bargained for, especially the Inquisitor.

“I try to keep my appointments,” Fernweh attempted to smile at Josephine, but her exhaustion only made itself known in her words, she crossed her arms against her belly, waiting for other woman to speak, she had work to do and needed to prepare to close further rifts in Crestwood.

“Thank you for taking the time, Inquisitor.” She waited to see Fernweh smirk, the curl of lip that teased, she waited to hear her voice full of mirth asking her why she was _being so formal, after all we’re all friends here, Josie_.

It didn’t come, Fernweh only nodded, her gaze still flat, unmoving – her lips still steady, her silence speaking words she wouldn’t dare say. Josephine swallowed, her thoughts jumbled and her speech forgotten when her nerves took hold again – this was an unknown to her, this Fernweh that stood stoic in her presence.

“Uhm, Fernweh, when… when the battle with Corypheus was finished,” the diplomat headed toward her desk, the sound of her heels against the stone seemed far too loud, far too _finite_. The silence in the room was too heavy, even for her, and she _liked it_ quiet.

“When we searched the camp and found…” She stopped at her desk, her finger sliding across the top of the large oddly shaped box resting there, “When we found your tent, there were a few things I thought you should have…” She swallowed, nervously looked at her friend, who was now staring at the Inquisition’s emblem on her desk.

 _She’s too focused_ , Josie thought, but she kept talking to fill the awkward space between them. “I thought you would want to keep some of the Commander’s…. well, uhm.” This wasn’t in the speech, she berated herself, her heels felt cemented to the ground and the words were sticking to the inside of her mouth like taffy. This was … she was _useless_.

“W-we cleared his office, as well and-.” Josephine palmed the box, shifting it towards Fernweh whose gaze now focused on it. Her expression was cloudy, unreadable. The Inquisitor was twisting her gloved hands together. “There were things put aside for you, from Cullen.”

Fernweh, pressed her lips together, she twisted the leather of her gloves, her fingers resisting painfully, anything to keep her feelings pushed as far away as she could. She had heard them shuffling through his things over the last few weeks, she hadn’t said a word from her hiding spot upstairs, under his covers.

No one knew that she was sleeping in his quarters still, his bed still smelled like him and if the moonlight filtered through just right, she could almost see his shape next to her and _he loved the stars..._

“On with it,” the words were harsher than Fernweh anticipated – she wanted out of here. Josephine nodded, her expression filled with empathy, grief for her friend but Fernweh couldn’t see that, all she could see was _Cullen_.

She remembered the wide expanse of his skin nestled against hers, she could still see her fingers grazing his back lazily while the sweat of their love making dried off and cooled them, she could still hear his voice while they discussed a follow up plan, just in case everything went wrong the next day –

 

> _The lantern light smouldered in the glass as it slowly snuffed itself out, she would have to get up eventually to fill it again to keep the tent warm but she was happy right then, too happy to move. But for now, she was focused on him, the way his amber eyes seem to glow in the low light of the lamps; the way his smile made his scar curve just right, the way his tongue moved when he spoke her name._
> 
> _He shifted his weight, his chest to hers – sweat at his temples curled his hair and always made her giddy because she knew she was the cause of it and it made her proud. She just wants to touch him._
> 
> _“Can we continue the discussion now?” he smirked at her, she hummed – her lips were pink from his kissing and her skin flushed with pleasure. He kissed her again._
> 
> _“Oh, alright then,” she sighed, the conversation was far too dark after such activity but it had to be done. He reached down, grasping her hand that was lying across her breasts. His thumb made idle circles on the back of it._
> 
> _“Tomorrow, while you make your way to him, I will do all that I am able to keep his forces distracted, to keep you focused.” He kissed her knuckles; his naked body felt warm against hers in the dead of winter, lying on top of her and between her legs._
> 
> _“Even if that means you have to lead the way, even if that means death?” she asked, her voice tight with emotion – he could die or she could die, this could be their last moments together. She knew what she was asking and he knew what he was agreeing to, they were hardened by war and knew of their sacrifices._
> 
> _“Yes, even if it means that. Promise me, Fernweh, you won’t back out of this.” His gaze was determined, his brow knitting in worry- he would extract the promise from her personally, she wouldn’t break it._
> 
> _“Promise me that you won’t leave your duty if you see me fall.” He asked again and she wanted to say no, she wanted to deny him. Heavy words, heavy on her tongue – its weight lay between them and he waited for her answer._
> 
> _“I promise.” Her eyes burned when he kissed her, she felt her tears mingle with his when he moved inside of her again. His voice was like silk, liquid words that drowned her and she swallowed every sound with her mouth. All she could taste was his skin; all she could hear were his moans as they spent that last night in their tent._

She blinked quickly, frowning.

“I’ve been tasked to pass these on to you, Inquisitor – “Josephine opened the chest, Fernweh could see that it wasn’t just a _simple_ box, it was a chest of sorts – decorated with the Inquisition’s emblems and there was a name carved into it. Fernweh didn’t want to read it.

Was this what was sent to the families when the soldiers died on the battlefield? _How impersonal, how wretched – how painful,_ she thought _._

Josephine didn’t notice Fernweh’s scowl or her impatient tapping of her foot and began to pull out the contents.

“His cloak and helmet-“

 

> _She could see the bright red lining of his cloak, in the distance – she was on her knees while her team struggled to strike, struggled to keep Corypheus away from her as she reapplied her elixirs. She saw the army clash against the Templars, the Inquisition’s flag held high and the echo of his voice against the floating stones._
> 
> _“For the Herald!”_
> 
> _The dust was too high and she lost track of him in the clash between the factions. Her skin became alight with fire, her elixirs humming against her and she grabbed her daggers, her hand glowing green._
> 
> _Focus._

“His sword and shield,” she laid them out onto the desk and the loud clank of the metal startled Fernweh. There was no more mud on the blade, no more blood from the field. His shield, she noted absently, was still covered in dents and Fernweh was suffocating in its history.

 

> _“This one here,” he let his finger trace the edge at the very top, “was formed from a bandit’s great sword – I wasn’t careful and it ricocheted off it and struck me on the mouth.” He pressed his tongue against his tooth, she never noticed the chip there before but it was right where his scar started._
> 
> _“Is that how you got your scar?”_
> 
> _He grinned at her, blushing all the way to the tips of his ears. “I wish,” he chuckled, “That would have been quite the story – actually, it’s not that exciting.” He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I tripped on a pile of discarded training swords while I was still Knight-Commander in Kirkwall and managed to, well, you know.” He shrugged, touching his face while grimacing. The memory was still bothering him, obviously._
> 
> _She snorted, pulling him close to her – the battlements seemed to be his favourite place to kiss and she took advantage of it when she could. She kissed the length of his scar, surprising him and she was laughing again._

“His chess set and matching pieces,” the box rattled between Josephine’s hands. Fernweh shifted her weight from foot to foot, she bit her lower lip, angry, but didn’t grab it, and Josephine laid it next to the sword.

 

> _“You said that…” He smiled at her and she blushed, losing track of the game against him. She was going to lose but she didn’t mind._

The inquisitor rubbed at her temple, trying to ignore the memories.

“A letter addressed to you,” Josephine handed her the envelope; Fernweh removed her gloves and took it from her. Her name was written across the front –she traced each letter with her index, each of his cursive letters carving itself in her skin.

She _ached_.

She flipped the letter and saw his seal, the red wax cold under her touch, the lion head roaring at her. What words were hidden there for her? Did she want to know?

“And one coin,” Josephine reached out, the coin between her index and thumb; Fernweh only stared, her hands trembling, her brow knitted together and her lower lip trembled.

 

> _“This is for luck,” he pressed the coin into her waiting hand, the metal cold against her skin but she laughed, honoured to have such a present. She couldn’t take it – his brother had given it to him in good faith and he needed luck more than she._

She wanted to grab it, throw it away, she wanted to hear the coin strike the stone, and she wanted the satisfaction of the memory being thrown away. She clenched a fist. The bile hung at the edge of her throat and she swallowed it down, she was going to be sick.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Inquisitor.” Josephine’s voice seemed small, distant and full of grief with each word she said. Fernweh felt the knot in her throat grow bigger by the second, she tried to swallow it away but this time it was rearing its ugly head in full force. She was failing at keeping herself in check and the sadness pooled in her belly, her fingers ached with the heartbreak.

_No, not here, not now._

She grabbed his cloak, the letter crumpling as she gathered everything close to her chest. Her gaze was blurring with tears as she stepped backwards, away from Josephine, away from his things, away from her memories of _them_.

Josie’s mouth was moving but Fernweh couldn’t hear anything. All she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears and some sort of ringing she couldn’t identify. She was losing focus, she had to… her back hit the door, she blindly grasped for the handle – she _couldn’t breathe_ , the emotion was suffocating her, her chest was caving under the pressure she was sure of it.

This was all too much, he _wasn’t_ dead, he was waiting for her – he _promised_ her, she _promised_ him.

She wanted to be back there, in the tent, in his arms – surrounded by him and his scent. She wanted his promises, she wanted to hear his terrible awkward laughter and listen to his terrible stories about recruits in the order. She wanted his eyes to be only focused on hers when they made love, his fingers touching her skin.

Her throat _burned_.

She walked out into the Great Hall, her breath was laboured and her steps heavy with grief. She clutched the mane of fur of his gear and despite it being cleaned and repaired, she could still see it covered in dirt, she could still taste his blood when she brought her fist to her mouth and screamed his name – she could still see the way it was torn when they took it off him.

 

> _His cold skin under her fingertips; the candle light of the chantry made it look warm and she fell for the lie, she fell for the illusion that he was just sleeping. She stared up at Andraste and felt her lips curl back with a rage she refused to acknowledge._

The wax from his letter crumpled under her grip and she looked down at it, trying to swallow the grief long enough to carefully open the letter. She took a breath and wiped at her eyes.

 

> _This isn’t your fault, Fernweh, don’t blame yourself for too long. We agreed that this might happen and I knew what I needed to do to keep you safe, and for the mission to be successful._
> 
> _If it means anything to you, I forgive you._
> 
> _I love you, always._
> 
> _Cullen_

She fell to her knees in front of her _throne_. His forgiveness falling from her fingers to the floor and she hung her head, his words burying themselves on her tongue.

She felt empty, bare and listless and buried her face into her hands– his cloak tickled her nose and she took a deep breath – his scent was gone and the pain was too much for her to keep at bay any longer.

“Inquis-“ Josephine’s hands touched Fernweh’s shoulders but the rogue only leaned back on the ball of her feet and screamed towards the ceiling, clutching what little she had left of him to her and between her fingers.

Her tears were thick, her voice raw and Josephine stood helpless, kneeling next to her friend who was finally grieving. Vivienne leaned over the edge and stared down at them, then disappeared – she could hear her hurried footsteps down the stairs. Varric’s voice filtered down the hall, he stood up from his seat by the fire and watched from afar.

Josephine could feel her own tears burning her eyes, she wasn’t sure what to do and when Vivienne appeared at the door, coming closer, Josephine waved her away, shaking her head. The mage nodded and waited, watching them.

“Fern-“she started, but the Inquisitor only shook her head, her grief palatable between them.

“Judge me,” she whispered, pointing at her throne.

“What?” Josephine stared in confusion.

“I said _judge me_.” She whispered, teeth clenched and the words were hard to understand. Josephine blinked again and Fernweh straightened up, fists clenched in frustration.

“Judgement for the Inquisitor!” Fernweh shouted, her voice cracking under the force. “Judgement for me, who ordered him to _die_.” Fernweh pointed at herself, painfully jabbing her thumb into her chest, her whole body shook. “Judgement for the one who couldn’t save him, who couldn’t _keep him safe_. Judge me, Josie, I need judgement!” She was yelling, her voice breaking with the rawness of her emotions.

She grabbed Josephine by the shoulders; all she could see was sympathy. “ _Judge me_ ,” she shouted again, her voice teetering on hysterics. Her hand was glowing green in her grief and Josephine grew nervous – was she planning on letting the mark consume her?

“I-I can’t do that-“Josephine clutched at the glowing hand, she didn’t even flinch when her friend squeezed her shoulder hard, painfully. The diplomat could feel her own tears wetting her cheeks and Fernweh only scrunched up her face more, angry with the answer, the glow of her hand fading.

“Why?” She grabbed the letter off the floor, showing his words to Jospehine. “He has forgiven me and I can’t… I can’t let him, I’m not worthy.” She hiccupped, gasping for a breath she didn’t want to take.

“Judgement has been passed then, Fernweh, you are forgiven by the victim,” she said, agreeing with Cullen’s last words. Fernweh screamed between clenched teeth, crumpled the letter and threw it at her, it weakly bounced off the diplomat’s chest and rolled away on the floor, towards the throne.

“No, I won’t _accept_ it,” she spat out the words, she denied his forgiveness. She started to rise to her feet but Josie pulled her down into her arms and squeezed her, hard enough for Fernweh to expel the breath she was holding.

“You are not at fault here, Fernweh,” she whispered, “You are not at fault, forgive yourself.” The Inquisitor let out a moan of grief, a low sound that rumbled through her chest that broke her heart.

Vivienne appeared next to them, Josephine could see a shimmer in her eyes, and the mage’s hands were shaking. She knew grief and she would help, if she could. The Inquisitor crumpled onto herself, leaning against Josephine and all she could do was hug her tightly. She listened to her weep, listened to her rage against her fate.

“Ju-judgement, _please_.” Fernweh whispered brokenly, she could feel his ghost watching her from the throne, she whispered it again and Josephine wept for her.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow up fic by Fatally-Procrastinating (heavy angst, with blood - please be warned) Cullen POV: http://fatally-procrastinating.tumblr.com/post/114911326751/forgive-me


End file.
